Left Unsung
by 9r7g5h
Summary: She tried to find the words she had left unsung.


**AN** : I do not own Adventure Time.

* * *

"I'm sorry I don't…treat you like a goddess…cause that's what I should do."

As forced as the words sounded, for once, Marceline didn't mind. It was, as she had told herself many times since she had first sat down to do this, just a rough draft; it didn't have to be perfect on its first run through, like all of her other songs had to have been. This one she was actually willing to work on to get it just right, instead of waiting for the words to appear out of nowhere.

She did have a deadline, after all, and it wasn't one she was willing to take chances with.

"I'm sorry that I don't…treat you like you're perfect, like…like all your little…subjects? Yeah, subjects would work. Like all your little subjects were right, correct…no, right. Were right to do…"

It was hard, changing the words to a song she had written so long ago, especially since it had been a spur of the moment thing and she could only half remember how it had gone. But for the person who would be getting it, Marceline was more than willing to put the extra effort in to remember it. _Especially_ since that certain person's birthday was just a few months away.

And as Marceline knew better than anyone else, the only thing an almost nine hundred year old entity would like was something from the heart.

"I'm glad I'm not made out of sugar…cause I'm still sweet enough for you? That's…just not right."

But as willing as she was, it was still hard.

"If my memory serves-"

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa," Marceline squeaked as she swiped the scattered papers off the desk she had been working on, half-filled sheet music and pages of scratched out lines hitting the floor with a dull thud as she turned on the woman who had snuck up on her. "Who said you were allowed in here, Bon-bon?"

"Although these are your quarters for when you stay with us during the daylight hours, Marceline," Princess Bubblegum said with a small smirk as she held her hands behind her, "this does remain my castle, where I can come and go as I please." Twisting her arms in front of her, Bubblegum shrugged as Marceline hungrily took in the pile of red apples and cherry lollipops the princess had brought with her, her smirk widening into a genuine smile. "I thought, if you were awake, I might find you hungry, since your own accommodations do not tend to your dietary needs."

Bubblegum was right when it came to that; the pitch black Marceline had asked her room to be decorated with left much to be desired in the red department, and she truly was starving. She hadn't drained anything since the night before, and there was still a long day ahead of her before she could leave.

But it was the pretty pink hand that held the bowl that interested her more.

"As I was saying," Bubblegum said, purposely ignoring Marceline as the vampire took the bowl in one hand, caught her wrist with the other, and pulled it to her mouth to kiss the other's fingers, "if my memory serves, I believe the line you used was 'Sorry I'm not made of sugar,' which was directly followed by 'Am I not sweet enough for you?' This was, in turn, followed by-"

"I know, Bon-bon," Marceline chuckled, nipping at her girlfriend's thumb to silence her. "I know. I'm rewriting it. Which is _exactly_ why you shouldn't be here. Can't have someone hearing it before it's perfect."

"I respect that," Bubblegum replied, lightly running her thumb over Marceline's lower lip, "but are you sure I cannot even hear a little bit? I'd love to, if you'll allow it."

"Sorry, Bonnibel, but no can do." Carefully piercing the tip of Bubblegum's finger with her fang, Marceline licked away the drop of ruby blood that welled up before kissing the wound closed, watching as the color returned to the small patch of skin she had stolen it from. Winking at the princess, she turned the other around, lightly pushing her toward the door. "Don't you have a kingdom to run or something? Go, Bon-bon; thanks for the food, but we both have work to do that isn't going to do itself."

"May I have a kiss, then, before I leave, since I won't see you again until tonight?"

Marceline didn't answer; she didn't have to. In the short time since they'd gotten together, the princess had well learned and taken to heart that Marceline couldn't deny her much, and a kiss was not one of those things.

Rather, it wasn't one of those things Marceline could deny her Bonnibel if this had all been real.

Opening her eyes, Marceline's sleepy gaze turned into a glare as her father slowly tried to back away, the guilty look on his face all she needed to know what he had done.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my head when I slept, Dad."

"I'm sorry," her father stuttered out, his hands held up defensively as he tried to deflect the worse of her gaze, "but, Marceline. It's been forty years since you've left the Nightospehere. As your father, I worry about you. You know that I do. You never do anything anymore, just sit here in your cave and work on that infernal song. I only did it because I wanted to know what was wrong. And…how did you know?"

For a long moment Marceline thought about not telling him, letting him make the same mistake over and over against so she'd know when he slipped into her dreams again, changing their course and awakening her from them against her will. The next, though, she realized she just couldn't care anymore.

"The blood, Dad," she said with a sigh, shifting so her head rested easier on her pillows. "Bonnie's blood was sweet; you made it too salty, like a humans'. And you sounded nothing like her."

"Marceline…" Her father's voice trailed off into silence as he stood there, just watching his daughter lay in bed. It had been days since she had moved, weeks since he had seen her actually out of the house, and months since she had last sung. He hadn't meant to disturb her privacy, hadn't meant to pry, but he had been getting desperate.

Ever since Marceline had come stumbling back into the Nightosphere, barely kept upright by her ability to fly, her throat too clogged to speak from the tears in her eyes and the sobs ripping apart her throat, Hunson had tried not to ask. Tried not to ask about what had gone on in the upper world, tried not to ask who she had lost to leave her like this (because even losing Finn and Jake hadn't left her like this, hadn't left her this broken), but he had had to.

It'd been days since she had last fed, and while he was getting tired of hand delivering red food to her bedside, at least she had eaten it. She had eaten it slowly, looking beyond exhausted, but she _had_ eaten.

Now she just laid in bed, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

At least the peek into her dreams was enough. Enough to give him the answers he needed, to explain to him why his baby girl was like this, to help him at least begin to start on a path that might help her heal.

"Did you ever get to finish the song?"

Slowly, Marceline shook her head, sniffling softly as she curled further into the sheets.

"Why not?"

She didn't answer, just confirming the sinking suspicions he'd had for a while now.

"Marcy, I-"

"Dad," Marceline interrupted, tilting her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye, "please, just leave me alone."

"Marceline, you haven't eaten in days," Hunson protested, holding out an apple towards her. "Please. Then I'll go away."

Her movements were slow, almost hesitant, as if she wanted to pull away from the offered fruit and turn her back towards him once again. But, after those few moments, Marceline took the apple and bit into it, draining the red from its flesh before handing it back over- without looking at it, Hunson realized, watching as his daughter refused to look at the gray skin her feed had left behind.

The same shade of gray, he realized, that pink bubblegum would fade to when it was done.

He took a bite as he left her, rolling the slightly sweet morsel over his tongue, before leaving to go visit Death. He had a guess, a theory, that he was almost sure was true, but he wanted to confirm. And his old friend owned him one.

Because the Marceline he knew never left a song unfinished, not if she could help it, unless the song lost its meaning. There had been few times over the thousands of years he could remember- oh, she would write them, forget them, never sing them again, but leave them unfinished?

The last time that had happened had been when she was six years old and her mother had died, leaving Marceline with a half-finished song and no one to sing it to. If this was the same, well…

Hunson was sure he was right. Especially considering the last time Marceline had eaten had been a few days ago, the day Princess Bubblegum, if he was still counting right, would have added another even thousand years to her life count. And knowing Marceline, she would have been there, eating cake and celebrating another year with her love.

Unless, of course, that love was no longer there, there was no reason to celebrate, and Princess Bubblegum was no more.

Hunson didn't need the confirmation- Marceline's behavior was almost enough. But he was curious, and so he went to see his old friend Death to find out if he was right about the reason why his daughter's song was left unsung.


End file.
